" "May I trust you?" hesitated Thames. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. ’ Melusine bubbled over and warmth rose in Gerald’s chest. Wood glanced at the hardy offender, and not liking the expression of his countenance, thought it advisable to postpone the execution of his threats to a more favourable opportunity. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground.
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